Valentine Poetry
by Salmon Cat
Summary: In which Cat buys (tons of) magnetic poetry and devotes herself to leaving Sam little poems on their fridge every day, until problems arise. Cutesy-dramatic Puckentine fanfic.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I guess it's pretty obvious now, but I thought I'd mention it anyway—Puckett's Valentine is currently in hiatus. I just haven't been inspired lately. I know how the story's supposed to go and how I'm going to end it, but the bits in between just need a lot of thinking and I just can't seem to think of the right words right now.**

**So here's another thing to distract you. I'm working on a lot of Puckentine one-shots to make up for the lack of Puckett's Valentine updates right now, so I'll be releasing them in moderation. For now, enjoy this one about Cat's new magnetic poetry kit, I guess. It'll be about five chapters long.**

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****"Sam, look!" Cat exclaimed, beaming at me. She had skipped all the way from our room to the kitchen, carrying something in her hands. I lowered my burger to take a better look and saw that they were fridge magnets, except there were words on them.

_What are those_, I asked anyway.

"Magnetic poetry!" Cat grinned. She dumped the little magnetic words onto the counter. I saw glimpses of "sugar", "sweet", and "sunshine" among the pile of words.

I shrugged, returning to my burger. _So what_, I said.

"So, I'm going to leave you poems every day from now on," Cat replied, smiling sweetly, her dimple showing up as always. "Before I go to school!"

_Okay_, I shrugged again. _Where'd you get a magnetic poetry kit, anyway?_

"I bought it online," Cat said. Smiling as always. She gathered the words back into her hands, and looked over the counter at my burger. "You went to Inside Out without me!" she pointed.

I took a big bite just to be annoying and smirked at her._ I asked you if you wanted to come_, I reminded.

"Well," Cat breathed, her head shaking slightly, trying hard to think up a response. "Now you have to split that with me!" she demanded.

_You wish_, I scoffed. I took another big bite, finishing off the burger.

Cat recoiled. "I thought you'd say that," she pouted, the magnetic words cradled in her arms. She turned abruptly to the fridge and started arranging a bunch of words, her other arm shielding the fridge from my view. When she was finished, she took a step back, dumped the remaining words back on the counter and stood there before the fridge, admiring her little work. And then she turned to me with her face held high in mock pride. "I'm gonna go to school now," she declared.

_Kay_, I shrugged. She bounced towards the front door, grabbing her little backpack off the couch along the way. _Byeeee_, I called out, right before she closed the door.

I could hear her hurried steps outside, and then the front door opening, just enough for her little redhead to pop in. "Byeeeeee!" she called back. And then the door was shut again.

I meant to head over to the fridge to get some soda, but Cat's little poetry got my attention.

** big tough girl**

** stingy and hungry**

** burgers are sweet and rare**

** next time don't be greedy**

**all best friends share**

It doesn't even look that good on our new fridge from the That's A Drag! set. The old fridge would've looked nicer for magnetic poetry. It didn't even sound like poetry... Burgers aren't even that sweet. _How many magnetic poetry kits did she have to order to get those words, anyway?_

And yet I couldn't help but smile stupidly to myself as I made my way back to the couch... I didn't even remember to get the soda.

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**There you go. Pardon the stupid poetry, but the last time I got magnetic poetry, the words were just too limited to actually say anything pretty or meaningful, and I had to look for themed sets to get the words I wanted, so I'm really writing from experience here. Plus, I feel like that is something Cat would totally write for Sam. I don't know, maybe that's just me. **

**Next chapter soon, I promise!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Woah, look at me updating daily! Heh.**

**I'm just gonna take a second to briefly discuss the nature of this story. It's not gonna be all cutesy cutesy from here, you guys. And I must warn you that the ending to this is going to be kinda bittersweet. But I promise I'll try to present you with as many Puckentine moments as I can, and that their relationship's development will be further explored even though this will be a brief story.**

* * *

"Sam, wake up," Cat's voice called. I could feel her weight near my legs on the couch, the little bounce she does whenever she takes a seat shakes enough of the couch to wake me up.

_What_, I asked, blank. It probably wasn't Cat's bouncing, but waking up felt really heavy. My head seemed to vibrate slightly on the insides. I crunched my eyes close, my fists pressed against my eyelids. And then I remembered.

"You've been sleeping all day, silly," Cat smiled, her hand resting on my arm. "You haven't moved since I left this morning!"

I faked a frown. _Really?_

She nodded excitedly. "I bet you didn't even read today's poem," she said, turning her head towards the fridge. I lift my head off the couch to take a peek too, and sure enough, there it was. The rows of little magnetic words on our fridge.

It's been several weeks since she wrote me the first one. Always in the morning. Sometimes I'd read it as she's arranging the words, peering over her shoulder even though she would try her best to hide it from me. Sometimes I get up late and I'd see the day's poem left for me whenever I'd go to the fridge. Either way, it's always there.

_Sorry, I'm just so... tired_, I said, yawning mid-sentence. _The kids yesterday were hell, you gotta admit._

"They were adorable, though," Cat remarked fondly, her brown eyes widening at the memory of last night's babysitting. She had convinced the two kids we were supposed to babysit to play this card game she'd gotten from her friend, or something. Cat's expression turned slightly dark as something came to her mind, "I think they just weren't used to eating on a plate..."

I snorted. _Yeah, the mess they left was a whole other level._

And it was one hell of a mess. The kids had wanted all the kinds of food that required some sort of sauce, and they just were _not_ good with sauce. By the time their parents came to get them, our living room was an abstract masterpiece. I would have liked it more if it weren't my living space they'd messed up, and if I wasn't the one who had to clean up after them. Not that I did much before collapsing onto the couch.

"Well, how are _you_ so tired when I was the one up all night, cleaning?" Cat asked defiantly. She'd gotten off the couch and made her way to the kitchen, probably to point out her unread poem again. Instead, though, she points at a mug on the counter. "Look, I even made you coffee," she said.

My heart sank at the sight of the lonely mug on the counter. Apart from her random poetry, I hated leaving the things that Cat made for me untouched. In the few months that I'd spent living with her, she'd proven to be a darn great cook. She was always baking cookies or cupcakes whenever she could, and as much as I hated the ridiculous amount of pink and purple she'd put on the icing work, they always tasted like heaven. Nowadays, whenever I was tired or sleepy from all the babysitting we did, she'd make me hot chocolate with little bunny marshmallows floating in them or really sweet coffee. I always drank them because of the way she'd stand there watching me, waiting for my opinion on the thing she worked hard on.

_Ahh, sorry, Cat... I just, I don't know, today's been heavy, you know?_ I tried, getting off the couch and checking out the mug on the counter. It was no good. It'd been sitting there on the counter all day, now it's all filled with ants. _I did wake up, though, a little after you left, but then I... I got a call, from someone._

She looked up at me, her eyebrows raised. "Who?"

I understood her suspicion. I hated that she had to be suspicious, but she was right about it. I didn't normally get phone calls unless it was Cat's Nonna or Dice, trying to get to her. That morning was different, though, and I remembered it pretty vividly too. I guess, as much as you hated your own mother, and as much as you didn't used to be around her, you'd recognize her stupid voice over the telephone. I just wasn't planning on telling Cat anything about it, until I realized how upset she was over the untouched poetry and coffee. Then I decided I'd have to explain _some_ things, like why I decided to sleep off the whole day after a brief phone call from my mom.

The nasty woman was sick, and by the sound of it, _really_ sick. She wanted me to come visit home, but she also asked me if I had some money on me. She didn't even ask me where I was, but she asked me if I could come anyway. And then she hung up because I wasn't saying anything.

I sighed a long, decisive sigh. _Look, I'll tell you. But just, don't ask me questions about it later on, okay?_ I pressed, pushing away the ant-filled mug from my sight.

Half an hour later, we were seated next to each other on the couch, a new, steaming hot cup of coffee resting between my thighs. I'd finished telling Cat everything. Cat had rushed off to make it the moment I started raising my voice during my story about the phone call.

"So... you're going away?" Cat asked after a little silence.

I gulped down the coffee, avoiding her eyes. The thick, creamy caffeinated drink burned down my throat. _I don't know yet,_ I replied. And I really didn't.

"But your mom needs you," she said, her hand lightly touching my arm.

I looked at her. _So you want me to go?_

Her hand jerked away. "No, I don't!" her voice was raised, her brows furrowed in panic. And then she seemed to calm down inside. "I mean, if you really have to, I guess you should go... But..."

_Hey_, I told her, taking her hand. _If it's such a big deal to you, I won't leave... Unless we can find you some other tough-talking blonde roommate._

She smiled weakly at my attempt to make the problem some kind of a joke. It kinda startled me how seriously she was taking the news. So much so that I had to give her hand a reassuring squeeze. Something to convince her I wouldn't just leave. It's not like that's something I can easily do, anyway. I didn't want to bother her about it, that wasn't the point. I hopped off the couch and headed to the kitchen.

**sleeping beauty**

**on the sofa**

**here's your coffee**

**drinker up**

I stared at the day's poetry. As usual, her word choices were questionable. "Beauty?" _Uh, why "drinker"_, I decided to ask aloud.

"They didn't have 'drink'," Cat replied simply. She joined me in the kitchen and started pulling the arranged words apart from each other.

I stared down at her quietly. Something about the sudden quietness made me feel restless and uncomfortable. But she simply looked up at me and told me she was preparing for the next day's poem. Her smile was back on her face, but the usual dimple was not. I've begun to take that as a sign for ingenuity after a while now. I sighed and pried her hands away from the fridge and the stupid magnetic words. I ran my fingers down the various scattered words on the cold surface of the fridge, but I didn't want to take too long. We were having a moment and I was going to end it on my own terms, so I covered an area of the fridge with one arm and got to work.

When I pulled back, there were four words arranged a little too messily compared to her usually neatly arranged magnetic poetry. It read:

**worry not**

**i promise**

I walked away, leaving her to marvel at _my_ work this time. I decided I'll think of something better to cheer her up later, but for now, I guess I'll reply her in a way she could enjoy. Anything to make her smile, really.

* * *

**Yeeeep. Apologies again for the horrible "poetry". Go on and throw rocks at me for my incompetence. I had a pretty one for Sam's response, but A. Magnetic poetry just does not give you words like that and B. I don't think Sam's much of a poet.**

**I can't promise that I will be updating this daily. There's only about four or five chapters to go for this and I have them drafted out, I just don't want to kind of dump a bunch of chapters for you guys to read exhaustively. Or is that way better? I don't know.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Woot, here you go! Another chapter, another silly "poem". I have such an ending prepared for this story, I hope you guys stick around long enough to read it : )**

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_Okay, you stay here while I get the chicken,_ I whispered, patting her hand encouragingly. In the dimly lit blanket fort, everything looked yellow and warm and cheerful. Even her shamelessly magenta hair seemed kind of yellow, the purplish-red and the foreign color clashing at an awkward tinge of orange. And yet, even with the ambience, Cat was shaking like a little puppy, her knees hugged tight. I pat her even more. _You stay here, I'll be back before you know it._

Ding dong, the door bell went again. We've been making the delivery guy wait for ten minutes now.

"What if you _don't_ come back?" Cat asked, all dramatic.

_Well,_ I smirked. _Then it means I'm off somewhere finishing the chicken!_

Cat seemed to think about this for a while, going silent. As if I would even leave her alone in the fort for too long... She'd probably freak out and knock down our hard work. She caught me looking at her, and then, "Well, what if you go, and the monster gets me?"

Ding dong.

_Okay, Cat, you know what,_ I said, crawling out of the fort. _Why don't you hum a tune while I go out, and I'll be back before you even finish the tune. Okay?_

"But what tune should I hum to?" Cat asked, bewildered by the sudden instructions.

Ding dong.

_I don't know, just - any song!_ I said hurriedly and crawled away from her. The living room was surprisingly dark after all that yellow in the fort. I stood there blankly, kind of disoriented.

"I'm humming..." her voice called out. And then she did start humming. I wanted to laugh at how silly it looked - a brightly lit blanket fort humming in the dark.

When I got to the door, the delivery guy made a face at me, rolling his eyes. "Took you lot long 'nuff!" he said in a desperate, squeaky voice. I grabbed the bucket of fried chicken from his hand and before he could even complete his "That'll be twelve bucks," I chased him away with a violent bark. The skinny dude scurried off, stumbling and falling on the way.

And then I felt my Pear Phone vibrate in my sweatpants pocket.

It was mom.

It's been two weeks since her phone call and I haven't really been keen to get back on the topic, but mostly I just didn't want to bring it up around Cat, or imply to her in any way that I had thoughts about going home. I hated that little frown and pout she'd do whenever she was upset, and that talk about me going back to Seattle was like, a hundred times that frown and pout. So I'd been avoiding the matter, not just with Cat, but with myself too. And now she's back on my phone, in a one lined text that basically threatened me she'd be dead if I don't send her money soon.

I stood there, staring down at the stupid little screen. Why does she always have to ruin a perfectly nice day? She probably wasn't even dying. She was probably just really sick, or something. Or just really in need of money. Either way...

"Sam?" Cat yelled, panicked. The humming had stopped. God, I was so distracted by a single text I couldn't even keep a simple promise to Cat. "Sam, are you alive?!"

_I'm right here, Cat,_ I called out, stuffing my Pear Phone back in my pocket. _I'm alive_.

But Cat wasn't buying it. The fort wobbled unstably, the yellow light from within casting weird little dancey shadows on the living room and kitchen walls. "Sam, I'm scared!" Cat cried, and then the fort gave.

Her thick, pink blanket collapsed in a heap onto her, right there in the middle of the living room. The little books and toys we used as poles for the little fort scattered around the mess. Cat was buried under the blanket, and she was freaking out. "Sam? _Sam_! I can't see, I think the monster ate me!"

I hurried over to her and tried my best to untangle her from the blankety mess. Hard enough with her thrashing her arms wildly around, I was barely paying attention. Mom's text really got to me, I see. Maybe she _was_ dying.

After some more frantic yelping and untangling, Cat resurfaced from the blanket, gasping for breath. It would have been a comical scene if it weren't for the tears running down her face. She was a sobbing mess, and I realized that enough to let her hang onto me as she threw her arms around me like all the other times she did. I stayed there, still and awkward, crosslegged on the ruins of our fort.

"You said you'd be back before I finish," Cat yelled, her voice weak and hoarse in my ears. "I hummed the ending three times!"

_Look, I'm sorry,_ I said softly. _I promise I won't let that happen again_.

"Promise?" Cat said, pulling back, taking deep breaths. God, what I would do to stop all that crying. Stop all those tears from coming.

I nodded.

Aaaaand another promise. You know what, way to go, Puckett. Way to go.

Cat sighed and broke into a relieved smile, again embracing me in her little tan arms. Her body pressed against mine like that, I could feel my damned Pear Phone between my thigh and hers. How very poetic of my stupid life, to have the one thing that's getting in the way of me and Cat—my possibly dying mother—be _literally_ between us.

The next morning, I woke up in the middle of the messy living room, with fried chicken grease on my fingers and Cat's blanket draped neatly on me. Not wanting to waste more time rebuilding the fort, we'd decided to just watch TV and eat chicken. And then I guess we kind of fell asleep right there. Cat must have left to school hours ago. I dragged my feet sleepily to the fridge out of habit, and sure enough...

**thank you**

**but next time**

**lie not**

I stared at the thing for a while. I read it ten times over. I even tried reading it backwards in case she was trying to be funny or something. I understood that she probably could have chosen better words, but I didn't get it.

I still didn't get it, until my eyes fell onto the counter where my Pear Phone lay, face up. Pointlessly, I clapped my hands onto my sweatpants pockets, but _of course_ it was mine. I rushed to it, my heart dreading what I might see, and what _she_ might have seen, and then my heart stopped completely.

"Hey Sam, just another week until I touchdown to Seattle! Can't wait to see you, so much to tell! :D 3"

It was a text from Carly.

I scrolled down, and sure enough, a text from Freddie. "Carly's coming to visit, you should get back home ASAP :D"

I scrolled further down, and then it was the text from mom.

Like a horror movie playing in my head, I could see the scene unfolding early in the morning... Cat arranging the usual magnetic poetry for me to read, and then hearing my phone vibrate. Was it in my pocket the whole time or did I take it out last night after the blanket fort fiasco? I couldn't remember. But Cat heard it, and she checked. And as life would have it, she probably didn't read mom's text... Lie not... She thought I'd lied to her about my mom calling me, didn't she? Thank God I wasn't awake to see her frown and pout this time, but all the same, something in me hurt and stung with the realization that she had left to school probably feeling really let down, and yet, sweet as ever, she had the decency to put her blanket on me. I couldn't even imagine her having to rearrange what cutesy little poem she must have had before she saw the text...

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**As I said, y'all, this is gonna end rather bittersweet. But how much bitter and how much sweet? You'll have to wait and see for yourself...**


End file.
